Basil the Austin Somerset Coupe de Ville

Austin A40 photo www.free-images.org.uk

When I was young, I went through a series of used cars. One was a Morris Minor, "Morris the Donkey." I grew fond of the hardworking little Morris, but he belonged to a friend. After a few months, I had to give him back.

For awhile, I had an Austin Cambridge. Now that had cachet. Cream exterior, red leather seats. A square solidly built car, and an automatic -- the first I'd ever owned. It drank more gas than a standard, but was elegant and smelled lovely inside, like old leather. Can't remember why I had to sell that one. Or did it break down?

I flirted a bit with American cars -- For $175 I picked up a Buick Special two-door hardtop. It was red with a white top and portholes along the sides. That one had a weird feature. You turned the key, then stomped the pedal to engage the starter located beneath it.

At the time I was living in Kitsilano, and when the power brakes started to fail, I was heading downhill on Arbutus toward Cornwall Avenue. I had a vision of tearing across the lines of thick traffic and plowing into the sand at the beach when the thing miraculously stopped just short of the intersection.

Then there was the green Mustang. A friend of a friend returning to France had to sell it fast. It was one of the later years, with a long heavy front and a short light back, which meant, I discovered, a horrible tendency to fishtail in snow. Ironically, it was the ski rack on the back, along with the stereo, that had convinced me to buy it.

My most perfect used car was a 1954 Austin Somerset Coupe de Ville, a bulbous little thing with a powder-blue body that resembled a London taxi. "Basil" had been one of a fleet of 20 blue coupes brought over from England for the 1954 Empire Games. The Empire Pool at UBC and the Empire Stadium at Exhibition Park were built for those games. That year Roger Bannister became the first man to run a mile in under four minutes.

When I got Basil, he was 25 -- old enough for Vintage plates, though I never used them. For me, Basil was daily transport. The two-way convertible top could be pushed back half way (the de Ville position) at a stop light. At the next stop light, if the weather continued to improve, I could reach back and pull two rear handles that caused the top to drop straight into its well.

Basil caused a sensation wherever I went. "Do you want to sell it?" people would call as I drove by. I'd shake my head and smile. I rebuilt the four-cylinder engine, lovingly re-upholstered the front seats in new gray leather, and replaced the worn and faded soft top with a smart navy blue one.

But city traffic was speeding up. Soon I found I had to use the shoulder to drive up the Cut without causing a long line of cars to form behind my sedate steed. When I took Basil to Victoria and he quit on the road to the ferry with my mother in the seat beside me, I saw the writing on the wall.

I brought Mom a takeaway tea and we sat while I pondered. Then idely, I turned the key once more. Good old Basil started up again. When we reached the ferry compound without further incident, I relaxed. There was a slight slope down to the ship and I knew I could jump start him if I had to, to get on board, we'd be home free. Then if didn't start on the ship, the ferry workers would have to help me push him off on the other side.

Soon after that, I sold Basil to the car buff friend who had found him for me. At that stage in life,  I needed something that would cross water and go uphill. Later, he sold Basil on to someone in Ontario. A few years back I found out through the grapevine that the heirs of the man who originally collected Basil were trying to flog him for $10,000.

As I recall, Basil cost me $350 originally, plus the repairs, some of which I did myself. I enjoyed driving that delightful car for about five years.